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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull , for , thou art not soe ,. For, those, whom thou think'st , thou dost overthrow,. Die not, poore death, . nor yet canst thou kill mee . From rest and sleepe , . which but thy pictures bee,. Much pleasure, .
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
and soulesdeliverie. Rest of their bones,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes
death, thou shalt die.